


It Starts with Something Small

by blue_jack



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: First Time, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-28
Updated: 2011-08-28
Packaged: 2017-10-23 04:31:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/246306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_jack/pseuds/blue_jack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In response to kianspo’s suggestion at my prompts post: Booty call.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Starts with Something Small

The first time is an accident.

Spock is working frantically at the console, trying to determine what on the planet’s surface is interfering with beaming up the away crew, and fuck, Jim should be with them, but he’s already been down several times, and they never encountered a single problem, and what the hell is going on down there, because he can hear the shouting every now and then through the static, and those are his men, and he should be with them!

He jumps out of his chair as the science console flares red and Spock stumbles backwards. Jim’s already demanding a medical team ASAP as he grabs Spock, who’s blinking but looks alright, and then he sees green, and he grabs Spock’s hands, because there’s blood dripping to the floor, but he can’t see a cut. And his fingers run over Spock’s, searching for something, trying to be as gentle as he can but running over every inch of exposed skin, over the knuckles and his palm, down each finger to the soft dip between because he can’t find anything, but the blood is so bright and what the—

Spock jerks his hands away, and is . . . is he blushing? Jim stares, hands still outstretched, because he’s seen Spock run for his life while firing his phaser behind him, looking as unruffled as if he were taking a stroll down the Enterprise’s hallways, but now he’s flustered because Jim's trying to tend to a wound he can’t even find?

“There is no need for concern, Captain. I am unharmed.”

“But you’re—”

They both hear the scream, and Jim whips around, his attention focusing on more pressing matters.

\-----

The second time is because of aliens.

The Loligons have tentacles. Lots of tentacles. And the way they express happiness and trust is by caressing each other’s arms. To refuse is a terrible insult.

Jim tries not to smile when one young Loligon greets him and hesitantly asks if he and his First Officer suffered some tragic accident that resulted in their losing their other appendages and how long would it take before they regenerated?

They’re an interesting people, and Jim enjoys his time on the planet, but as they get ready to leave, treaty signed, the Loligons decide it’s appropriate to mark the occasion by everyone rubbing against everyone else, and they mean everyone, so he’s standing in front of Spock, stroking his arms and smiling like he’s going to bust because he’s never done this before, probably won’t ever get the chance again, and Spock is so very, very uncomfortable.

Spock’s eyes are as impassive as always, but there’s a tension in his body that Jim takes way too much pleasure in, so as his hands travel down Spock’s arms, he slows down as he reaches skin, his touch light as he skims the back of Spock’s hand, tracing a line across his knuckles, exploring the size and shape of his fingers, so long and elegant, the contours of his bones, the folds of his skin. Spock is warm, amazingly warm, and Jim appreciates the strength of Spock’s hands even as they go almost lax, even while his body stiffens until he’s nearly thrumming.

There’s something in Spock’s eyes now, and Jim’s never realized how _expressive_ Spock can be, the twitch of an eyebrow, the flex of a muscle in his jaw, and Jim feels like he’s seconds away from understanding whatever it is Spock is struggling to hide, but the time ticks away, and he still doesn’t get it, and it’s frustrating, _extremely_ frustrating— _why_ does Spock have to be so closed off, _why_ can’t he just . . . let Jim in? And Jim pushes his hands forward with more force than he intended, his fingers moving between Spock’s until their hands are entwined, his grip much too tight, and—and Spock gasps, Spock _gasps_ , and his fingers nearly crush Jim’s, and _oh_. Oh, oh, oh.

Well, damn.

That must be . . . a little embarrassing. Jim gets them out of there as fast as he can, and Spock doesn’t look at him, stands as far away from him as he possibly can while acting the part of the responsible First Officer, and fuck, he’s not the only one who’s feeling a little awkward.

Although . . .

Jim watches Spock walk off, and his hands twitch, feeling empty.

\-----

The third, fourth, fifth and sixth time might be on purpose.

It’s not really Jim’s fault though! Spock just looks . . . and his hands are . . . and the _sounds_ he makes . . . and, and Jim might be getting a wee bit addicted. Jim never knew before that when Spock blushes, the color starts in his cheeks and travels down his neck, and he blinks, a lot, and he shivers, barely noticeable, but Jim notices. Hell yeah, he notices.

Jim just wants to put his mouth on Spock’s skin and taste that rush of heat, wants to do more than just caress Spock’s fingers, although shit, he would be more than happy to do that for an hour, two, three, wants to lick Spock’s palm and up and down each digit, spends _way_ too much time wondering what Spock would do if he put Spock’s finger in his mouth and _sucked_ —

Okay, maybe he’s more than a little bit addicted.

Still, Spock is tricky, and he doesn’t just let Jim fondle him anywhere and everywhere he wants, because if Jim had his way, they’d be on time forty or fifty right about now, and Jim’s had to get creative until he’s tempted to just jump Spock on the Bridge, although he remembers how well that went before.

But even though Spock doesn’t make it easy, he doesn’t fight either. Like, sure, he’s refused Jim’s offer of a hand massage—twice—because Spock manually inputs things into the computer all day, every day, finding it faster to do it by hand than voice, and Jim is just looking after the well-being of his crew.

_Right._

But Spock doesn’t say anything when the away team accidentally brings up spores that make one fifth of the crew decide they want to hibernate, holing up in dark, secure corners of the ship, and Jim has to use a hand-held scanner to go over every inch of his exposed skin, even though someone from Medical would be the more logical choice. Spock even returns the favor afterward, flush just starting to fade, and Jim doesn’t have the heart to tell him he’s already been scanned.

Who’s he kidding? He’d probably shoot someone if a crew member tried to interrupt them now.

He’s fully hard by the end of it, even though it doesn’t have the same affect on him it does on Spock. But watching Spock play with his fingers is one of the lewdest experiences he’s ever had, and fuck, that's saying something.

And damn it, Spock knows _exactly_ what he’s thinking if the arch look he gives Jim right before he leaves is any indication.

Which is quite probably true. Being a touch telepath and all. And fucking hell, that’s embarrassing.

Kind of hot though.

Spock’s known each and every time. And he’s still let Jim do it.

\-----

The seventh time is Jim’s favorite.

It’s been weeks since he’s touched Spock. Weeks. But if it hasn’t been one thing, it’s been another. Romulan sighting, planet-wide epidemic, engineering failure, poisonous flora, etc., etc.

He’s tired. Exhausted. He could probably sleep through three shifts without even getting up to piss. So he’s more than a little annoyed to hear his door chime, and he considers pretending he’s not there, although really, that’s more than a little unprofessional. Damn it.

“Spock?” It feels like his eyebrows are trying to crawl into his hairline, he’s so surprised. “Did we have plans tonight that I forg—”

“No, Captain.” Spock’s uneasy. Jim can tell that much, since he’s just standing there, not saying anything, not moving, and Jim’s kind of at a loss, because it’s obvious Spock wants something, but—

Oh.

_Oh._

“Would you like to come inside, Spock?” He’s not tired at all anymore. Well, just a little bit, but some things are worth it, some things are worth just about anything, and there’s no way he’s passing up this opportunity.

“That would be . . . acceptable.”

And Jim’s grinning like a loon; he can’t help it. For all that the words are lukewarm, the look in Spock’s eyes is not, and he steps aside so Spock can join him, the door closing softly behind them.


End file.
